


Braver than I

by darthstormer



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Injury Recovery, Promises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24955225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthstormer/pseuds/darthstormer
Summary: The universe seemed determined to keep them apart, but Mike and El always fought their way through. When tragedy strikes again, will they be strong enough to make it?
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper & Mike Wheeler
Comments: 9
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

"Don't you dare leave me, Mike Wheeler. Don't you dare!" El screamed in her head.

Outward, her face was pale with shock, tears streaming down her cheeks. Heart pounding, she scarcely breathed, terrified as she watched in helpless silence. But inside her mind, she was screaming for him.

* * *

30 minutes earlier

* * *

It had been almost five years now, since she had escaped from the lab where she had been raised in captivity like some kind of animal. She had entered the world barefoot and alone, a scared girl named Eleven. She had found safety and friends, and a boy who came to mean everything to her; a boy named Mike, who called her El.

She had lost him for a time, dragging herself to another dimension to save the people she cared about. When she made it back to the world where she belonged, it became immediately clear she had to keep her distance from Mike, to keep him safe. After weeks living in the woods through the cold beginnings of an Indiana winter, she was taken in by the very man who had betrayed her to the lab, now determined to keep her safe. Both strong-willed and fiercely protective, they butted heads and fought almost from the start. Somewhere along the way, however, they tore down each others walls and became a family. She was the second chance at a daughter the universe had so cruelly taken away from him. In him, she found the loving father she never knew she wanted or needed. A year after escaping a tortured childhood, she got back her friends, she got a real home, and a piece of paper that told the whole world she was Jane Hopper, daughter of police Chief Jim Hopper.

For a little while, everything was right with the world. Until Starcourt. Until the night she lost everything all over again. Her father was dead. Her home was destroyed. The town was full of investigators. For a myriad of reasons, she moved with the Byers to a new home across the state. True, it was an effort at a fresh start and healing, but it was also to keep people from prying too deep into the background of the police chief's daughter with the mysterious past. She lost her town and the life she had been trying to build. She all but lost her friends. She all but lost Mike.

They kept in contact as much as they could, and saw each other as often as possible. Their feelings never wavered - if anything the distance only pulled them together that much stronger - but it was still hard. It took almost a year after that terrible night for El to work her mind through the grief and begin to let her father go; to come to terms with the fact he wasn't coming back. In that peace and clarity, her powers had returned, and in their return, she had found him alive. It had taken another six months and a series of top-secret deals between the U.S. government and the Soviets, but by Thanksgiving, he was home. Their reunion had been tearful, and the recovery on-going; now they both understood the isolation of captivity, and connected even deeper, often talking late into the night over stacks of Eggos. Three years after escaping the lab, her world felt right again, or some semblance of right at least.

After a brief stay with the Byers, Jim and Jane Hopper returned to Hawkins and moved into a new home on the edge of town. Thanks to a little governmental assistance, he was reinstated in his old post as Chief of Police and El was enrolled at Hawkins High School. The Byers followed them back to Hawkins a few months later, and for a year and a half now, life was good for Jane "El" Hopper. She was back with her father, she had a home, she had her friends, and she had Mike.

Life was peaceful. Life had an order to it. Life was finally, blissfully, normal and quiet. Until it wasn't.

It was a hot Friday afternoon, and Mike was driving them to catch a movie at the theater in town, if for nothing more than the air conditioning. Summer was in full swing and they were taking advantage of the freedom provided by the clunky Ford Mike had saved all year for. In what had become one of a hundred little traditions they shared, they stopped off at the Fair Mart on their way in to town. The theater only served Coke, and Mike, ever aware of the little things that still triggered flashbacks for El, always swung by the little market for a bottle of Pepsi to sneak in to the theater for her.

"Sit tight, I'll run in and get it," Mike offered.

"Thanks," El smiled, giving his hand a squeeze. "Hurry back!" she added as he slid out from behind the wheel.

He shot her one last smile and turned, pushing through the front door, and stepped into the cool shade of the store. Mike nodded with a smile to Mrs. Johnson behind the register as he headed back to the cold case. Late into their sixties, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson were still running the little shop by themselves, as they had for almost thirty years. They were one of those couples everyone in town knew and nobody had an unkind word to share about. Without grandchildren of their own, they had taken on the role of grandparents for all the children in town instead. They were always right there to buy boxes of Girl Scout cookies or support the Christmas toy drive. Mr. Johnson would be first in line for the football team's car-wash, even when he had just washed his old truck himself the day before.

Starting down the central aisle, Mike didn't notice the man nervously browsing the magazine rack. His thoughts were on El, the girl he loved beyond words. His thoughts were on finding her the coldest bottle of Pepsi in the case. His thoughts were on just how lucky he was that someone so singularly amazing as her, actually loved him in return. Only as the cooler door slid shut and he turned to walk back to the front did Mike hear the unmistakable ratchet of a revolver being cocked.

"Empty the register," the man ordered, gun aimed squarely at the woman behind the counter.

As he stood in the shadows, the possibilities played out quickly in Mike's mind. He might just take the money and go, or he might be the paranoid type who doesn't want to leave witnesses. Mike was still out of sight, and could easily stay there until the man left, but he knew deep down he wouldn't. He couldn't stand to see the Johnsons lose out on the livelihood they worked so hard for. The couple had never been anything but kind to Mike. Mrs. Johnson had let him off easy with a disappointed shake of her head the day she caught him shoplifting a bag of M&Ms, during the rebellious year El was gone. He had gone back the next day with a sheepish apology and the money he owed her. Mr. Johnson had given him a ride home when Mike crashed his bike and bent up the wheel on his way back from Hopper's cabin, after visiting El one icy Saturday. And if something happened to Mrs. Johnson while he stood by and did nothing...that wasn't a thought Mike could live with.

Mike Wheeler never thought of himself as brave, but he knew he had to do something. He had no plan, no idea what might happen next, but he stepped out of the shadows all the same.

"Hey," he shouted, drawing the man's attention away from the counter.

Out in the car, El sat quietly humming the song that had been on the radio when they parked. She was trying to decide what movie they should see, though she didn't really care which one. She was just happy to be spending a calm afternoon with her boyfriend. Dustin and Will were both off checking out colleges, as they would all be sending off applications in a few short months when their senior year began. Max and Lucas were out in California visiting her dad. That meant she and Mike had the whole weekend, just the two of them.

Her peaceful contemplation was shattered by a distinctive crack from inside the store. It was a sound she knew all too well, one she had heard more than a few times in her life. In recent months, she had been to the range with her dad as he started teaching her how to safely handle a firearm. Long before that, she had been far more familiar with the noise than any child should, as the bad-men from the lab fought to drag her back to the prison where she had lived out her earliest years. It was those long-ago memories that flooded back as she flung herself out of the car and sprinted toward the double-doors leading into the store.

Her mind was so entirely focused on finding Mike and making sure he was okay, that she barely took notice of the man rushing out the door as she pushed her way in. She was only vaguely aware of sweet, old Mrs. Johnson frantically dialing the phone. The whole world seemed to slow to a stop as she looked around, her eyes fighting to adjust from the bright sunshine outside to the dim light of the store. Finally, she spotted Mike slumped against the end of one aisle, a circle of bright red slowly spreading from the middle of his gray t-shirt. For a long moment, El's mind refused to comprehend what she saw, and she tried desperately to figure out what he might have spilled on himself. His eyes found hers, and the barest hints of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

All at once, reality slammed back into place and those jumbled pieces came together in her mind. The gunshot, the man, the phone call...and the stain.

"Mike!" she screamed, rushing over and falling to her knees beside him.

He turned to look at her, wincing in pain, a smile still returning to his lips as his eyes traced the lines of her face. He raised the hand that had been gingerly holding his stomach, and reached out for her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "The movie."

In spite of everything, she felt a pained laugh escape her lips.

"I don't care about the movie," she said gently. Tears burned in her eyes, welled up and broke free.

Out of habit, Mike reached up and brushed away the drops as they ran down her cheek. His thumb left a thin streak of blood in its wake while he tried to dry her tears. His hand dropped from her face and she gathered it in both of hers.

"I'm sorry," he mouthed again, "Couldn't not help."

Mike focused hard on El's eyes, seeking out the comfort he always found in their depths. His stomach hurt, but not nearly as much as he knew it should, and that had him worried. Somewhere inside, he knew there was a strong chance his time was quickly running out. Every beat of his heart was pushing a little more of his blood into places it didn't belong, but there was nothing he could do about that right now. So he stared deep into those eyes that he treasured.

"I love you," he whispered, fighting a cough and giving her hand what little squeeze he could muster.

She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, tears falling onto Mike's face, hot against his pale skin.

"I love you too," she breathed, softly. "You have to hold on."

A hand came to rest on El's shoulder, and she could pick up a few of the words Mrs. Johnson was saying. Paramedics. Ambulance. Police. She sounded a thousand miles away and the words swirled in El's head, refusing to coalesce. Still, the vague idea they represented came through; help was on the way.

It felt like hours passed, waiting for the paramedics to arrive. She held tight to Mike's hand, her eyes locked on his, afraid to do anything else. In truth, a crew from the County fire-station just up the highway made it to the store less than 10 minutes after the call to 911. She was in a daze as gentle but firm hands pulled her away, the first responders setting to work assessing his condition. There was a flurry of activity around him and El shifted from side to side, keeping her eyes locked on Mike's. As long as they stayed open and locked back on hers, she knew he would be alright; at least that's what she kept telling herself.

In just a few minutes, he was secured on a stretcher and wheeled toward the ambulance idling outside. El followed numbly, barely feeling her feet hit the ground as she walked. Mike was loaded in the back, quickly but carefully and she moved to climb in beside him.

"I'm sorry, I can't let you come," the paramedic apologized. "Policy is, only immediate family can go with him. So, unless you're his sister, or..."

"His wife," she blurted, her mind racing to find any excuse to stay by his side. Something deep inside was telling her if she lost sight of him now, she'd never see Mike again.

He gave her a skeptical look, but then nodded and extended a hand, helping her into the back of the ambulance before climbing in and slamming the doors behind them. She looked too young to be married, and her hand lacked the usual ring, but he wasn't about to argue. If she was lying, he could claim ignorance, and if she really was his wife, and he left her behind, there would be all kinds of hell to pay.

As the vehicle pulled out onto the highway, El grabbed the handle by her seat, steadying herself as the van quickly picked up speed, the siren wailing outside. She watched in silence as the two men worked to stabilize Mike while they drew steadily on toward the hospital. As one continued to start IVs and hook up various monitors, the other radioed details ahead, preparing the emergency room for what was coming.

They were nearly there, when one of the monitors began to beep a rapid alert.

"BP's dropping," one of the men called out as he put more pressure on the gauze over Mike's stomach, already soaked through, bright red.

The other grabbed a prepared syringe and plunged it into the IV line already running into Mike's arm, flooding his veins with the medications they hoped would buy him a few more minutes until they could reach the hospital.

Fighting every urge to go to him, El sat glued to her seat, knowing she had to stay out of their way if they were going to save him. Her face was pale and firm, fighting to keep her eyes locked on his, even now. Letting go of the handle by her seat, she placed both hands on his leg, the closest part of him she could reach. She never uttered a word aloud as they drove, but in her mind, she was screaming for him.

"Whatever life is in me, take it. Take everything you need."

She tried to picture pushing her very soul down through her fingertips and into him, giving whatever strength she had.

"Don't you dare leave me, Mike Wheeler. Don't you dare!"


	2. Chapter 2

"Chief, are you there?" Flo's voice crackled through the radio. "Come on Hop, pick up."

Hopper grabbed the radio's handset off the dash of his new Blazer and keyed the microphone. "I read you Flo, what's up?"

"It's about time, Hop. Where are you? All Hell is breaking loose back here."

"Just got on Route 9. Callahan and I were giving the County guys a hand out at the Baker farm. Radio tends to cut off this far out. What's going on?"

"Holdup a half-hour ago at the Fair Mart. One shooting victim, male, condition unknown. En route to County General with his wife."

"Anyone on scene yet?" Hopper asked, already reaching to hit his lights and siren, the Blazer picking up speed.

"Powell is over there getting a witness statement. As far as we know, it's just the owner, the victim and his wife who saw anything."

Hopper thought for a second, deciding who would go where. Callahan wasn't exactly his most tactful officer and the Chief didn't want to further upset a wife already dealing with tragedy.

"Callahan, you catch all that?" he asked, glancing in the rear-view mirror at the officer in the car behind him.

"Every word, Chief," he radioed back.

"Okay, you head over to the store and give Powell a hand processing the scene. I'll head to the hospital and get a statement from the wife and check on our victim."

"Roger that," Callahan said, watching for the turnoff he would need to take, to cut over to the market.

As Hopper drove, his brain went into overdrive. He knew Mike was taking El to the movies this afternoon, and he knew they always stopped at Fair Mart on the way. He thought back to what Flo had said: the victim was there with his wife, and there were no other witnesses besides the owner. So the kids had either already come and gone, or would have seen the commotion and decided to skip the store entirely.

He knew parental nerves were something he'd probably never get over and the best he could do was rationalize his way through each situation. He thought hard and pulled together an image of where the two of them would be right now. Mike and El would be at the movie theater downtown. They'd be seated three-quarters of the way back with a big tub of popcorn. Mike's arm would be around her shoulders, even though Hopper wished the boy would keep his hands to himself. But they would be there, safe and happy. He played the image over and over in his mind until he could actually believe it.

He held tight to the image as he pulled up to the emergency room, parking along side an ambulance, its back doors standing open. He took a deep breath and steadied himself for what came next, mentally taking off his 'dad hat' and pulling back on a 'Chief of Police' mindset. Inside was a woman going through the worst day of her life, not knowing if she was about to lose the man she loves, and he needed every ounce of professionalism he could muster.

He took one more steadying breath, climbed out of the Blazer and started toward the doors. Stepping inside, he pulled off his Stetson and ran a quick hand through his hair. He scanned the lobby of the emergency room, mostly empty except for a few nurses in blue scrubs and one familiar head of curly brown hair, the girl underneath staring transfixed at the double-doors leading off to the treatment rooms.

"El?" he called, puzzled as to why she would be here when he was so clearly picturing her at the movies.

She slowly turned and the truth of it came crashing into place. Her face was raw and wet, a streak of blood crossing one cheek. Her hands were a sticky mess of brown he immediately recognized from countless crime scenes, the sort his little girl should never have been a part of.

"Dad?" she said weakly, fresh sobs threatening to boil over.

He moved quickly to her and gathered her in his arms.

"Are you alright?" he asked soothingly, "What happened?"

Between shuddering breaths, she tried desperately to get the story out.

"Mike...we were going to the movies...stopped to get me a Pepsi. I heard the gun...I ran in...and Mike..."

She trailed off again, wracked by sobs. Holding her tight, the mental picture of a peaceful afternoon at the movies began to dissolve away and was replaced by a truth that made too much sense. They had been at the market after all and Mike was the victim who had been shot. El would have been desperate to stay by his side when the paramedics took him away and she said whatever it took to make sure she wasn't left behind.

Hopper guided her slowly over to a set of chairs along the wall and sat her down, his arms firmly around her until her tears slowed again. All his fatherly instincts were shouting at him to reassure El that everything would be alright; that Mike would be just fine. Every time he opened his mouth to speak, the words refused to come out. They both knew what it was like to lose someone they loved, just one more terrible connection they shared. He couldn't lie to her like that, when he had no idea what was even going on yet.

After checking that she would be okay for a minute, Hopper found the restroom and gathered a handful of paper towels, wetting a few of them in the sink, and came back to where El was sitting. He gently worked the cloths along her cheek and over her fingers, clearing away the drying blood; she didn't need that terrible reminder every time she looked at her hands.

"Okay, that's better," he said softly. "You alright here while I go find out what's happening?"

She gave a half nod, terrified to know, her mind playing out all the worst scenarios. Still, having her dad here made it all just a little easier to face. She watched as he walked over to talk with the nurse at the front desk and was then led back through the double-doors to speak with the doctors. The lobby was uncomfortably quiet once more, the clock on the wall above her ticking out a monotonous beat. She fidgeted nervously with her fingers while she waited, counting out the seconds, the minutes adding up quickly: 4, 5, 6.

"El, time to go," Hopper shouted, pushing back through the doors, his steps just below a run.

Pulled so suddenly out of her own thoughts, El rose to her feet and fell in step beside him, not questioning why they would be leaving the hospital or why they had to do it so quickly. Only when she was buckled safely in the Blazer's passenger seat and Hopper was firing up the engine and starting through the parking lot did she finally recover her senses enough to ask. In response, Hopper pointed high through the windshield at the red medivac helicopter lining up to land on the hospital's roof.

"They've stabilized Mike as best they can, but they're sending him down to the trauma center in Indianapolis. I'm not going to lie to you El, it's not good."

Pulling out onto the road, Hopper flipped on his siren and pointed the Blazer toward the highway. They wouldn't beat the chopper to the city, but he was going to give it everything he had to try. Knowing he still had to juggle the dad and police hats, he reached for the radio to bring Flo up to speed and then let her know Powell was in charge in his absence.

"Flo, this is Hopper, you read me?"

"Go ahead Hop," her voice came back moments later.

"I have an ID on our victim and I need someone to make the family notification before they find out from someone else." He paused, taking a deep breath. "It's Mike Wheeler."

"Jesus, Hop. Does that mean..."

"Yeah, she's with me right now."

"I'll have Fitzsimons handle that right now," she said, the strain obvious in her voice. Flo had a soft-spot for El, and knew just how close she and Mike were. "I'll have him make the notification and give them a ride over to the hospital."

"Negative on the ride." Hopper threw back. "They're sending him down to Indianapolis. That's where we're headed right now."

"Got it," she answered, simply. She didn't need details, knowing there were never good reasons patients got transferred down there.

Settling the Blazer's speedometer around 90, lights and siren clearing the way, Hopper drove them steadily onward. Occasionally he radioed ahead as a courtesy, as they passed through other small towns along the way, but for the most part the two rode in silence, each lost in thought and knowing there was little to be said.

Halfway there, a sinking feeling came over El and she suddenly unbuckled and dove into the back seat, digging through the accumulated debris for something that would suit her need. Climbing back up front and strapping in, she twisted the radio to a dead AM station full of static and turned the volume all the way up. Tying the old t-shirt she had found in the back seat over her eyes, she pushed her mind out in search of Mike.

In only a few moments she found him, secured to a stretcher, wires and tubes running away from his body like vines. He lay there, ghostly pale and still, and she would have thought it was already too late were it not for the attendants still working tirelessly on him, one checking over the monitors, the other hanging a fresh unit of blood to replace what he had already lost.

Settling close by his head, El tried to push her thoughts out into his mind.

"You have to hold on Mike. You have to keep fighting. I love you, and I can't do this without you."

There was no way to tell if her words were reaching him, but she pushed them outward all the same. "I love you. You have to hold on. Please. Please don't leave me."

Monitors began to beep frantically, alerting to his worsening condition. Another syringe was plunged into his IV line and one set of sensors were quickly unhooked from his chest. The medics worked feverishly over his failing body, fighting to buy him more time. El didn't understand much of what she was seeing, her consciousness near his head watching in numb shock. New equipment was grabbed off the helicopter's wall, two devices pressed quickly to Mike's chest.

"Clear!" one of the men shouted, the other taking a step back, pulling his hands away.

Everything went dark, then a brilliant, blinding white, and El felt her mind thrown violently back to the Blazer. She ripped the t-shirt from her eyes, fighting to catch her breath as blood streamed from her nose unchecked. Hopper glanced over as long as he dared, knowing his attention needed to be on the road at these speeds. He reached over and placed a steadying hand on El's shoulder as she buried her face in the shirt, sobbing again. Whatever she had seen out there in the void hadn't been good, and he couldn't bear to ask what it was.

Onward they drove in silence, woods and fields giving way to suburbs as the city loomed closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, more questions, more uncertainty. Mike's fate will be covered in the next chapter, so you'll have to hold on a bit longer. I am feeding this out a chapter at a time with a little delay between, but the whole story is written, minus minor tweaks and edits that may happen during a final read-through of each chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

The helicopter beat them to the hospital by half an hour, and Mike was already in surgery by the time they were parked and made their way inside. For nine hours, all El could do was wait, and worry. The waiting-room chairs were uncomfortable, the magazines outdated and the coffee stale, but she didn't notice any of it. Hopper came and went, finding fresher coffee, finding a pay-phone. At one point he brought her a sandwich, but all she could do was stare at it hanging limply in her fingers, unable to take a bite. She was vaguely aware when Karen, Ted and Holly showed up, joining them in the silent waiting room, numbly accepting a hug from Mike's mother. Hopper's voice filtered through her mind as he told them what they knew so far, but it was just background noise as her eyes stayed locked on the doors leading deeper into the surgical wing. Somewhere behind those doors, Mike was fighting for his life. As badly as she wanted to reach out to him again, she didn't dare, afraid of interfering and terrified of knowing. Ted left at one point and returned with Nancy, who had grabbed the first flight she could out of New York. Still, Mike was in surgery and there was little the hospital staff could tell them.

Finally, far into the evening, an exhausted surgeon came out to speak with them. As soon as he entered the room, El was on her feet, her mind alert despite the late hour. There were a lot of questions that couldn't be answered yet, but the important details were quickly laid out. Mike was out of surgery and being moved to intensive care. The bullet had done plenty of damage, but missed any vital organs on the way through. Their biggest concern right then was his back, his spine having been broken by the impact. While his lower extremities were showing no response to stimuli, it was far too early to tell the extent of the damage.

"He's not out of the woods yet," the doctor continued, "but I'm confident. He had a few close calls this afternoon, but he's a fighter."

The news wasn't great, but El clung desperately to the most important detail: Mike was alive. Whatever came next, they would face together, like always.

It was another hour before any of them were allowed in to see him, the minutes ticking by at an agonizing pace, threatening to drive El mad. When the nurse finally gave the go-ahead, she practically sprinted to his side, taking hold of his hand in her own. For hours, she had been telling herself he would be fine; nothing in the universe could pull them apart. Only now, with his fingers entwined with her own, feeling their warmth, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, did she actually allow herself to start believing it. He was stable, though they were keeping him heavily sedated, and the doctors warned he would probably drift in and out for the remainder of the night and through the next few days. When he finally opened his eyes, fighting off the fog in his mind and the dull aches radiating through most of his body, Mike looked from face to face until he found her.

"El," he whispered, his voice dry and raspy, as smallest beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

She gave his hand a squeeze, raising his fingers to her lips. Sleep pulled him back under before she could say a word, but El felt a flood of relief wash over her. He might not be out of danger yet, but he was hanging on. He had promised long ago they would never lose each other again, and he was fighting to keep it. It had been a long day and an even longer night, but El refused to leave Mike's side as the others filtered in and out of the small room. The nurses were limiting how many visitors could be with him at a time, but nobody had the heart to make El move an inch before she was ready.

A little after dawn brought its cheery light through Mike's window, Hopper came in to tell her he had to head back to Hawkins to check on the investigation and grab a few hours of sleep. For a terrifying moment, she thought he was telling her she had to leave as well.

"Don't worry," he reassured, seeing her whole body tense in panic. "Karen said you're welcome to stay. She and Nancy are both staying here at the hospital too, and I'm going to give Ted and Holly a lift back home. He'll probably come back later this afternoon." He laid a hand on her shoulder, waiting until she turned her red, tired eyes his direction. "I can't promise you get to stay by his side until they release him - that might be a while - but no one is making you leave right now. But you have to make me two promises, if you're going to stay. You have to leave his side and eat something once in a while, and you need to try and get at least a little sleep. Can you do that for me?"

El gave him a half smile, relieved she wasn't leaving, and nodded. "I promise."

"Good girl," he said, wrapping her in a hug. "I love you."

"Love you too," she said, returning to her seat at Mike's side, wrapping her fingers through his.

With everyone down the hall, saying their goodbyes and making plans for when Ted would come back, El took advantage of the private moment to talk to Mike, certain he could hear her even if he was asleep.

"Mike?" she whispered, not really expecting a reaction.

When he didn't respond, his chest slowly rising and falling as it had for the last few hours, she continued on.

"Damn it, Mike. I really thought I was going to lose you today. You can't do that to me. I can't lose you, Mike."

She wanted so badly to be angry with him, for putting her through this, but it just wasn't in her. Try as she might, all she could feel was how proud of him she was, for what he had so foolishly tried to do. Leaning in closer, she raised his hand to her cheek, spreading his fingers to cradle the side of her face the way he had the afternoon before, trying to comfort her as he lay dying on the cold tile floor of the market. There was warmth in his hand this time, his body no longer sinking into shock.

"You were so brave today, protecting other people the way you always do. Now I need you to be selfish. I need you to focus just on yourself; save your strength and keep it all inside so you can get better. I'm going to be selfish too, because I need you to come back to me; I need you to promise you're not going to leave me. I wouldn't be here right now if it weren't for you; I might not be alive at all. And I can't say goodbye to you. Not again. Please, just promise me I won't have to say goodbye. I love you, and I can't lose you. I'm going to stay right here by your side, as long as it takes."

Exhaustion and the emotional roller-coaster of the day were beginning to get to her, and she felt herself tearing up again.

"Please Mike, please promise you'll never leave me."

She couldn't be certain whether it actually happened, or if it was all just wishful thinking in her head, but El felt the slightest twitch in his fingers against her cheek, and that was good enough for her. He was going to fight. He wasn't going anywhere. And neither was she. Finally giving in to sleep, El laid her head on the bed next to Mike, his hand safely in hers.

* * *

It took time - far longer than she could have imagined - but little by little he came back to her. Each day he made a little progress, each day he got a little closer to home.

His first few days in the hospital were spent mostly asleep, the doctors keeping him sedated to allow his body to start healing. He would wake for a few minutes at a time, sometimes speaking a handful of words, other times silently looking around in a mental fog. He recognized faces, knew the names of everyone who came and went from his room, and always smiled when his eyes met El's. On the third day, just before sleep pulled him back under, he gave El's hand a squeeze and whispered "I promise."

As the sedatives were reduced and Mike spent more time awake, he could finally carry on brief conversations. He remembered everything that happened, and explained just what he was thinking when he decided to step out of the shadows. Something about the man, he couldn't really pinpoint what, told Mike he wasn't just going to take the money and go. Mike had said whatever he could to hold the man's attention, trying to talk him into lowering the gun and just walking out of the store. He couldn't be sure if it had been intentional, or an inadvertent twitch of his finger, that fired the shot, but the end result was the same. After that, things were more of a blur, though El could fill in the details from the moment she entered the store. Time and again, Mike tried to apologize for what had happened, and of course, El would hear none of it; she could never be mad at him for trying to come to someone's defense.

When they had a quiet moment, just the two of them, Mike confessed he had felt her there in moments when he thought he was starting to slip away.

"I didn't know if it was real or not, but the thought of you was enough to pull me back, El. It almost felt like your arms were around me, refusing to let me go. I think you saved me."

The doctors continued their tests every few days, but Mike showed no improvement in his lower extremities. Only time would tell for sure, but it was looking likely that Mike would never walk again. On some level he had been preparing himself for the eventuality since the first round of tests after he was awake. It would take getting used to, his whole life was changed forever, but he put on a brave face and declared he was ready to adapt. He dried El's sympathetic tears, and joked he was never athletic anyway and spent most of his time sitting, now he had an excuse. In the light of day, he could almost believe that everything would be alright.

Only when Hopper insisted El come home for a few nights, did Mike finally allow himself to let down his guard. In the dim of his hospital room, the lights turned low for the night, he let the tears fall. His mind slowly wandered down the list of all the things he would never do again; hiking through the woods with his friends, swimming down at the quarry, climbing Weathertop to help Dustin fix his radio. All the times he had biked through town, wind in his hair and El's arms wrapped warmly around his waist; never again.

He thought about what life would be like at home once he finally got there. His bedroom was up a flight of stairs, the basement down another. The path outside to the basement door was rocky on the best days and a mud-pit when it rained. His few tries navigating the hospital hallway in a wheelchair so far had been a struggle, and he knew there was no way he could make that trek through the yard. Maybe they could put a bed for him in the small den off the living room. Would that be his life now, tucked away out of sight?

The more he thought, his eyes focused hard on the chair parked in the corner of his room, the more overwhelmed Mike felt, and he let the tears fall unchecked. Every time he tried to hold them back, they would turn to choking sobs and he could feel every stitched wound, inside and out.

Finally, he thought of El, and all the promises and plans they had made. They were going to leave Hawkins and take on the world; as long as they were together, there was nothing they wouldn't be able to do. Life had seemed so simple when they said those words, lying in a grassy field, the sun going down and El's curfew dangerously close. The world seemed determined to throw one roadblock after another at them, and Mike wondered if this would finally be the one that broke them.

Still, he had a new promise he had made El; one he intended to keep. Somewhere deep in his subconscious, he remembered her whispered pleas, begging him to keep fighting. Whatever came along, he would try to be strong for her and face it. Once again, thoughts of El were enough to pull him back from despair. He just hoped he was strong enough to carry on for her.

Around the time school started, Mike was released from the hospital. He had hoped that meant he was headed home, but it wasn't in the cards just yet. Instead, he would be spending a few weeks at a rehabilitation center first, learning the skills he would need so he could navigate his new life. While his friends were studying calculus and reading Shakespeare, he would be getting taught how to get in and out of bed and how to dress himself. Dustin tried to reassure Mike, joking that at least his classes wouldn't have a final exam. Mike laughed along with him, holding back the thought that his whole life was going to be a test from now on.

El did a little better at brightening Mike's mood as she helped him move into his new room at the care facility. While he expected another sterile, impersonal hospital room, El had gotten permission to bring a few touches from his bedroom at home. It was a little thing, but seeing the bed made up with his own comforter and his old Star Wars pillow case made the space feel a little more like home. On the bedside table, El had arranged Mike's dog-eared copy of Lord of the Rings, which he never tired of re-reading, and a framed photo of the two of them at last year's fall carnival.

It wasn't his bedroom, but El made it feel that way. She had the biggest heart, and he found himself wondering how he deserved her.

"Now you keep practicing and getting stronger so you can come home, and I'll have another surprise waiting for you," El said. "Something to look forward to, right?"

"I can't wait," Mike smiled.

"I mean it," she said, quieter and more serious, wrapping her arms around him. "Be strong, I know you can do this. I can't wait for you to be home."

"I love you." Mike whispered, his lips gently meeting hers.

"I love you, too."


	4. Chapter 4

"They caught him," Hopper said.

She knew the day would come, but it was still a shock to finally hear those words.

"I know it will be tough," he continued, "but I need to take you down to the station to identify him; to make sure they got the right guy."

She wasn't sure she could face the monster, but El knew she had to do this for Mike, to bring him justice. She walked slowly down the back hall of the police station toward the holding cells, her dad on one side and Officer Powell on the other. Stopping in front of the barred doorway, she took a deep breath and looked up, her eyes falling on the face that would be forever burned in her mind. It was really him, the man who had nearly stolen Mike away from her.

She gave a small nod of her head and confirmed it. "That's him."

"Alright," Powell said, "I'll go write it up and get your signature."

El continued to stare, a seething anger rising in her chest. This man, sitting there staring back with indifferent eyes, had almost ripped away the boy she loves. He had left Mike permanently injured, and now she was just supposed to nod her head, sign a piece of paper and walk away?

It all happened before anyone could react. El threw Officer Powell back down the hallway with one outstretched hand, as she pinned Hopper against the wall behind her. The bars of the holding cell twisted apart with a sickening groan and El stepped through, eyes black with fury. Not thinking about the consequences, focused only on vengeance, she flung the man backward into the wall with an invisible fist tightening around his throat. She had tried this once before, but had shown Ray mercy in the end; there would be no mercy today.

"El, don't do this," she could hear Hopper saying from behind her, fighting to get out of her grip. She ignored him, knowing what she had to do.

Her attention was on the man in the cell with her, his face already turning purple, eyes bloodshot as he struggled to draw a breath. She could kill him with a nod of her head and end it all, but that would be too quick. He needed to suffer for what he had done. For every hurt he had caused, he needed to feel that pain in return. The thought crossed her mind to snap his back and let him see how life in a chair felt, but even that didn't feel like enough. She could see his lips moving, trying to form words; he was begging, pleading for his life, but no sound came out. She squeezed tighter, throwing everything she had behind her grip, a scream rising in her throat.

El's eyes snapped open in the dark, the scream still on her lips, her whole body drenched in sweat. In seconds, Hopper came pounding down the hallway, bursting through her bedroom door ready to face whatever danger might be lurking in the night.

"Sorry, Dad," El apologized, switching on the bedside light with a flick of her head.

"Bad dream?" he asked, sitting on the edge of her bed and catching his breath.

"Yeah. The usual one."

"Want to talk about it?" he asked, pulling her into a comforting embrace, neither able to hide how hard their hearts were pounding.

"No," she said quietly, with a shake of her head, the adrenaline fading away, leaving her feeling cold and hollow.

Hopper held her tight, feeling the angry tension stiffening her shoulders. Talking always helped in the end, but the trick was coaxing the conversation out of her to get things started.

"Alright," he finally said, giving her one last firm squeeze, then standing. "If you change your mind, I'll be in the kitchen making a midnight Eggo stack."

As he walked back down the hall toward the kitchen, he smiled to himself as he heard the distinctive shifting of her comforter as she got up to follow him, unable to resist the snack. Waffles first, talk second; a well practiced routine for them.

The dream had been coming more frequently in the last few weeks, but El couldn't decide if that was a bad thing. In a small, perverse way, the imagined vengeance felt good. She wanted the man to suffer for what he had done, for the hurt he had caused and for nearly taking Mike from her forever. It gave her a small feeling of control in a situation where she was mostly powerless. She had told Hopper as much, the first time she had the dream, and he had explained how those feelings were natural, but they had to let the courts do their job bringing him to justice. In a way, it had been so much simpler when it was the bad-men from the lab, or creatures from another dimension, and she could unleash herself on them. This man, on the other hand, was just a normal person who had to be dealt with by the normal rules of world; the place where she so desperately wanted to belong.

In truth, her encounter with Mike's assailant had been quiet and routine. Three days after the shooting, he had attempted another robbery at a gas station in the next town over. His timing had been terrible, and he had rushed out the front door, stolen cash in hand, and collided with a sheriff's deputy stopping for his morning coffee.

While he was held in the County jail awaiting the armed robbery charges, Mrs. Johnson was brought in and positively identified him as the assailant from her store. The prosecutors were confident they had enough evidence to proceed, but a second positive ID would tighten up their case. Hopper was reluctant, but he brought El down to the jail to see if she recognized him as well. She had only seen the man for an instant as they passed in the doorway, but she said she would try. Safely hidden behind the privacy of mirrored glass, she ran her eyes over the men arranged in the other room. Her glimpse of the man in the store may have been brief, but it only took her a few seconds to pick him out of the lineup.

The moment her eyes passed over his face, she felt her stomach give a violent lurch and a chill washed over her. It was that same hopeless dread that would fill her every time Brenner ordered his men to haul her off to the dark room - punishment for some failure.

"Number 4," she said, nervous despite their assurances that the men in the other room couldn't see her.

"Are you sure?" the officer asked, confirming her pick.

She reminder herself, she was doing this for Mike; she could be strong for him. "That's him. He's the one," she said, a small measure of confidence returning to her voice.

She waited patiently, fighting back her churning stomach, while the officer documented her statement. She clutched the pen tight in her trembling fingers and scratched out her signature. Then she spent the next few minutes in the bathroom puking up everything she had eaten that day. Only after her stomach was empty and her face wiped down with a cold, wet paper towel, did she start to feel better again. His was a face that would haunt her for the rest of her life, just one of many, but she was glad she had faced him. She hadn't been able to stop him from hurting Mike that terrible day, but she could stop him from hurting anyone else.

While Hopper had started preparing her for the trial, just in case she was called as a witness, it thankfully never came down to that. At the urging of his lawyer, the man agreed to plead guilty to both robberies and a charge of assault with a deadly weapon. The second robbery would be impossible to defend, and there was little chance on the first either. Having three witnesses, all with corroborating stories, it was hard to decide who would garner the most sympathy from a jury: the elderly woman, the traumatized girl or the boy who would never walk again.

On the day of sentencing, El insisted she wanted to be in the courtroom, if not for herself then for Mike. Hopper was hesitant, but she was determined, so he took the day off work and they settled quietly in the back row to await the decision. They had talked to length about what might happen, and El's head was swimming with more legal jargon than she ever wanted to know. She could rattle off by heart the sentencing guidelines, minimum and maximum sentences for each of his guilty pleas. She knew the judge could adjust those recommendations based on mitigating circumstances, too. In the end, the judge sentenced him to a combined total of seventeen years for the three charges. It wasn't nearly enough, as far as El was concerned, but she knew she would just have to make her peace with that.

The defendant, already dressed in his orange prison jumpsuit, stood and turned, waiting for the bailiff to reattach his handcuffs. For just a moment, his eyes caught sight of El's, and she sat up straighter, unafraid. Maybe he recognized her, maybe not, but it didn't matter to El. She knew what imprisonment felt like and she knew a little of what awaited him. The barest hint of a smile crept to her lips as she watched him being led out of the courtroom. While he served his time, she and Mike would be out in the world, living their life, together.

As Mike's attacker was delivered back to jail, awaiting his transfer up to the state prison, Hopper drove El back to Indianapolis to visit Mike and bring him the good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gone back and forth a dozen times on using the word 'traumatized' in describing El. I can't find a word I like better there, but at the same time I feel like the word often carries a connotation of broken, shutdown or weak. And I absolutely don't feel that way about El, in either this story or the grander arc of the show. I keep coming back to the word as she has absolutely faced many traumatic experiences, but her strength, bravery and resolve have seen her through those times. Maybe I'm overthinking it. In either case, I felt a little note was necessary about why I chose the word.


	5. Chapter 5

Mike separated his life into groups of good days and bad days. Each day held its challenges, but he tried hard to find the bright points wherever he could. He would set little goals along the way, and let himself feel a glimmer of hope when he reached them. The first time he got himself out of bed and into the chair without the therapist's assistance was a good day. Telling El about it that night on the phone felt even better. Hearing her soft voice say how proud she was of him felt like a warm embrace as he sat propped up in bed. The next morning when he tried it on his own before the nurse came in to assist, and he wound up in a heap on the floor, started things on a decidedly bad-day note. Follow-ups with the doctors and finding out his organs hadn't suffered any permanent damage shined a glimmer of good on the day. That all washed away again when the discussion turned to his back, and everything below his waist. He was trying hard to come to terms with it, but that still tended to turn any day into a bad one.

Days when El came to visit were automatically good days, regardless of anything else that happened. She wasn't able to make the trip down as often as either would like, but he understood. She had school and he had his own lessons. They talked briefly on the phone most nights, though the calls ended far too soon. Neither wanted to invoke Hopper's wrath by running up long distance charges, and Mike still found days exhausting and had to turn in early. Of course, the separation gave him that much more incentive to work hard, to pass his tests, and be declared ready for release.

Going home was a great day.

El drove down with his parents and they got to sit curled together in the back seat for the whole drive home. One arm around El, her head on his shoulder, Mike could almost forget for a few minutes that anything was different from how it used to be. They were just two kids in love and all the plans they had made for stepping out into the world still felt possible.

He hadn't really known what to expect when they actually got home, and he was more than a little afraid to ask. He had started to, a few weeks earlier, and El just laid a reassuring hand on his arm and promised him it would all be okay. He knew he had to trust the people who loved him, for this and so much more now, so he had smiled, nodded and agreed to trust her. What awaited him was beyond anything he could have pictured.

Pulling into town, Mike started to spot the messages - a sign in a window here, a banner there, store marquees changed for the occasion, all welcoming him home. For someone who had always felt like he blended into the background, even in a small town like Hawkins, it was jarring to see everyone take notice of him. Pulling onto Maple Street, more banners, balloons, and neighbors gathered on front lawns to wave and cheer. He couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry, and found himself doing a little of both. Familiar faces filled the driveway as they pulled in, the whole Party gathered there with Mrs. Byers and Chief Hopper. He was surprised to see that even Mr. and Mrs. Johnson had shown up for his homecoming. They had sent flowers and a card, and what felt like a lifetime supply of M&Ms while he was recovering, but this was the first time he had actually seen them since the robbery. Mrs. Johnson wrapped him in a tearful hug, whispering her heartfelt thanks for what he had done. Mr. Johnson met his eye with a grateful look and a firm handshake, no words spoken but the exchange speaking volumes; what Mike had saved that day went worlds beyond cash in the register.

As hugs went around the group, everyone giving him their own welcome home greetings, Mike couldn't help but notice El's smile growing ever larger, a jittery excitement passing through her.

"Can we show him?" she finally asked, no longer able to contain herself.

Everyone let out a laugh and Mike realized he was the only one not in on the joke, suspecting it must be whatever surprise El had been holding onto since he started therapy. As El pushed his chair along, Karen pointed out the changes that had been made in his absence. The front porch had been rebuilt, complete with a ramp giving Mike easy access to the first floor. A second, small ramp had been added at the carport door; not a large step to be cleared but still one he would have required help over. Knowing he could get himself in and out of the house, Mike felt the first homecoming weight lift from his shoulders.

The main entrances done, El started out of the carport again, aiming toward the side of the house leading down to the basement. Mike glanced up, trying to gauge from her face just what El had planned, but her smile didn't betray any hint of the surprise to come. As they turned the corner and Mike braced himself for the bumpy yard, he was shocked to find the rutted and occasionally muddy path had been cleared, replaced with a smooth concrete walkway leading right up to the basement door.

"Alright, close your eyes," El ordered, as she swung the door open and pushed him inside. After positioning him in just the right place, glancing around to make sure everything was ready, she added "Okay, open them!"

Mike opened his eyes slowly, and for a moment, didn't recognize where he was. In his absence, the basement had been completely transformed from the dark, damp space where he had spent his childhood. The wood paneling, the old couch, his dad's workbench, the accumulated debris of his family: all were gone. New drywall had been hung, bright white paint breathing life into the room. The bathroom had been remodeled and the walls expanded to meet his needs. A new bed sat against the wall where he had once built El her fort of blankets, set low so it wouldn't be a struggle to get in and out. Short, wide dressers graced another wall. A new, framed-in closet, with the bar set within his reach, was neatly organized with his shirts and jackets. The whole space, where he had spent countless hours of his childhood, had been rebuilt into a bedroom that would perfectly accommodate this new phase of his life.

As El explained it, his old bedroom upstairs had been redecorated, too. Officially a guest-room, it was understood by all that it was El's room as often as she wanted it. Mike couldn't help recalling with a smile the promise he had made to her all those years before, that he would gladly give her his room and take the basement as his own, when she was no longer a secret. Life had thrown them curve-balls, but he had finally kept his promise.

"Do you like it?" El asked, her expression both nervous and hopeful.

"It's..." Mike paused, trying to find the right word as his eyes scanned over the room again. "It's perfect. I love it."

It was overwhelming, and Mike felt his eyes beginning to mist up as he looked around. Instead of the old den upstairs he had all but resigned himself to, he had a place he would be able to call his own, fit and tailored to his needs.

"I don't understand, though. How did you guys do all this?" Mike asked, mentally totaling up what he thought the renovations would have taken, both in time and money.

"Oh, well, you know. We had a little help," Karen said, brushing off the question with a glance at El.

While he caught the look, Mike was too overwhelmed to sort out just what it meant. After returning his book and photo to their proper places on his new bedside table, the group made their way back upstairs for a late lunch. After proudly maneuvering the ramp in the carport, Mike navigated his way to his old, familiar place at the dining room table. The doorways gave him a little trouble, barely wide enough to let him pass, but there was a feeling of pride when he made it on his own.

Once lunch was over, and everyone was gathered in the living room, Mike decided to ask again, still not understanding how they managed to make all the changes that seemed like they would have taken months longer to do.

"She doesn't want the credit, but you have El to thank," Karen finally admitted.

Mike looked over in surprise as a deep crimson rose to El's cheeks. Karen continued, explaining that if they had done all the work themselves they never would have finished in time.

"Really, we had been at a loss where to even begin," she went on, "But El, she just said 'let's get started.'"

She had come to Hopper with the idea, and together they brought it to the Wheelers. El had made calls, coordinated volunteers and solicited donations to help make it all possible. As it turned out, there was no end to the people in Hawkins who wanted to help however they could, both those who knew Mike directly and those who knew him only by what he had done. A weekend was picked and supplies were readied. Saturday morning, El was there at sun-up, going to work with a pickax to get the ground ready for the concrete walkway to be poured. That afternoon she was swinging a hammer, helping to hang the new drywall, and the next day she was hard at work painting. All weekend, wherever there was a job to be done, there was El. Sore backs and blistered hands, it was all worth it to make sure Mike had somewhere to come home to.

Mike listened in shock, El's fingers wound gently in his own. He found himself wondering, not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, how he could ever possibly thank her for what she had done. The smile she gave him when Karen was finally done told him there were no words necessary.

The day Mike Wheeler came home, was a great day.

That whole weekend turned out to be a series of great days. Even though the space bore little resemblance to the basement of his youth, it was still home and he found himself getting the best night's sleep he'd had since the incident. Maybe it helped that El was allowed to stay over, and even if she was two floors away in his old bedroom, it was the closest she had been since she stopped sleeping in the chair at his hospital bedside. On Sunday, all their friends came by, and as they gathered in the basement, things almost felt like old times. Pizza, board games, movies; it could have been any random weekend from their childhood. There was a moment of awkward maneuvering as everyone picked new favorite seats, but once he was situated, Mike's chair was quickly forgotten. El was never far from Mike's side, watching him close to make sure he wasn't getting overwhelmed or tired, but he spent the afternoon with a contented smile plastered to his face.

Monday, a bit of reality started to sink in. For months, his sole focus had been on the goal of getting home, with little thought about what lay beyond. Now that he was there, he had to start coming to terms with what day-to-day life would actually look like. El had stayed over on Sunday night, and came down early to help get him up. She brought down breakfast for the two of them - Eggos, of course - and they shared a few quiet moments of blissful peace. But it was Monday and she had school. Karen was home, but agreed to give Mike his space. He worked through the exercises his therapist had prescribed. He took a nap. He got himself back into the chair and made his way upstairs for lunch. He read a book, played a video game and laid down again to rest. El came back over after school, not ready to be apart from him any longer than she had to. Dinner upstairs and then back to bed.

Tuesday was much the same. Wednesday and Thursday, El came over after school, but Hopper insisted she needed to come home after dinner, promising she could stay again for the weekend as long as she wasn't wearing out her welcome. Friday felt a little better again, knowing El would be back to stay for a few days, and his friends were planning to come for a movie marathon. He was getting stronger all the time, more self-sufficient every day, but there was a normalcy he knew he would never get back to. He missed being with his friends, he actually found himself missing school and he missed being with El.

The weeks slowly blended together for Mike, days mostly marked by whether or not El came by in the afternoon and if she got to stay for the night. Hopper had laid down the rule early on that she could spend as much time over at the Wheeler's as they would allow, so long as her grades didn't slip at all. She worked harder than ever, getting through homework as fast as possible so she could focus on time with Mike. If he was napping when she came home from school, she would lay down and curl up beside him, and both thought there was no better way to wake up. El never tired of helping him, never uttered a complaint and helped to brighten his mood when he got frustrated. He could see a look cross her face as their friends would talk about activities outside of school: football games, a concert in Chicago, trips they were considering for spring break. He could never decide if the look was envy, or something else, and he worried she was starting to regret being cooped up with him all the time.

It had been clear from the start that he wouldn't be in school for the first semester of his senior year, but Mike had been holding out hope he might somehow be back for the second half of the year. Complications in the form of pneumonia a little before Christmas put those hopes to rest. While the infection wasn't as bad as it could have been, it landed him back in the hospital for nearly a week, and left him exhausted once he was back home. It felt like all the progress he had made had been reset, and just getting between his bed and the chair was a struggle again. The doctors had warned he could face these kinds of setbacks, and likely could for a while still, as his body was fighting to recover from the extensive trauma he had survived.

Still, the realization left him in a bad state of mind. He would be a full year behind, finishing up high school. His friends would all be heading off to college the next fall, their applications already sent, and he would be at home in Hawkins. He fought to remind himself it was only a year, and then he would be heading off to join them.


	6. Chapter 6

"What do you mean you haven't even sent it?" Mike asked, incredulous.

He had been avoiding the subject for weeks, not wanting to face the fact that El would be heading off to college in the fall, leaving him behind. Out of the whole Party, she had gotten the highest score on her SATs, nearly perfect in fact. She could have her pick of schools, but her first choice had still been up in Chicago like she and Mike had always planned - together. He had finally mustered up the courage to ask if she had received her acceptance letter yet, and now it turned out she hadn't even applied.

"I decided to wait a year. That way we can go together, just like we talked about."

"El, I can't let you do that," Mike argued. "I can't let you throw away an opportunity like this."

"It's only one year, Mike. It's really not a big deal," she replied calmly. "They need a new file clerk down at the station; Dad already said the job is mine if I want it. I can earn a little money, be here with you while you finish up your senior year, and we'll send in our applications together."

"And what if it takes more than a year?"

El could see Mike was getting agitated, something deeper bothering him, though she couldn't place what it was.

"Then I wait two years. Or three. Mike, it doesn't matter to me how long it takes."

She reached for his hand, but Mike rolled himself backward and turned, starting his own version of pacing the room. It was a recent habit he'd picked up, and a little frustrating when he did it, but she knew the movement helped him sort out his thoughts. El sat on the end of Mike's bed and watched him roll back and forth, his eyes darting around the room but never quite landing on her.

Mike had been afraid this would happen, from the moment he realized the truth of his injuries. El would do anything for him, just like he would do for her. If that meant staying by his side, and letting the world pass them by, she would do it without question, and he couldn't live with himself if she did that. If he got sick again, if school took an extra year, if he was never well enough to even head off to college - what then? She had already spent too much of her life denied the opportunities she deserved, and he couldn't chain her down again. Maybe it would just be a year. Maybe they would make it to college, just like they planned. Then what? There was a long road ahead, and this was only the beginning.

"El, you've worked too hard - come to far - to just stop now. A few years ago, you were sitting alone in your dad's cabin stumbling your way through grade-school workbooks, and now you're the top of our class. You have fought hard for every inch of ground you've covered. You deserve to see just how high you can soar, and you don't deserve an anchor like me weighing you down."

"You're being ridiculous, Mike." she soothed. "Everything we talked about, everything we planned, that can all still happen. One year, five years, ten years, it doesn't matter."

He stopped rolling, turned to face her, and found he couldn't even look her in the eye. The thoughts had been nagging at him for weeks, a dark monster growing in the corner of his mind. He didn't want to breathe life into it, hoped there was another way, but he couldn't see it.

"Don't you get it, El?" he asked, a lump forming in his throat. "None of those things are going to happen for us. We were stupid kids when we made all those plans. We have to grow up and face the facts that they aren't going to work out. Not anymore."

He didn't want to say it, but couldn't live with himself if he didn't do it now. He wanted nothing but the best for El, and he knew deep in his heart, she could never have that if she was stuck with him.

"El, I can't do this anymore."

"What are you talking about?" she asked softly, realizing this no longer had anything to do with college and whether or not she was leaving in the fall.

"This. Us." he said slowly, gesturing around them with a sweep of his arm. "You deserve the world, and all I'm going to do is hold you back."

"Mike, don't say..."

"Please, just...let me finish," he said, cutting her off, the tears already burning in his eyes. "I can't do...any of the things I used to be able to; the things we used to do together. Our long walks hiking through the woods, just soaking in the silence. A Sunday drive, windows down and the radio cranked up, out to the middle of nowhere and hiking into a field for a picnic. All the places we talked about traveling, the sights we wanted to see? I don't think the Incan ruins in Peru are wheelchair accessible."

She knew what he was trying so desperately to do, and she wasn't about to let that happen. He was hurting, and he had been fighting too long trying to hide it; she cursed herself for not seeing it sooner. He WAS her world, and if they spent the next fifty years right there in his parents basement, she would be happy, as long as she was with him.

"And if we get married? We'll need to make sure it's a ground-floor honeymoon suite. Our wedding night?" He looked shamefully down at his lap. "A spirited game of chess, maybe? The family we talked about? Little Benjamin? Little Megan? I'm not sure how that's supposed to happen either. If you stay, you're going to spend your whole life nursing, waiting on me, helping me in and out of bed and a thousand other little things. Your life will be all give, no take. You deserve so much more than that. You deserve someone who can give you everything your heart desires, and I don't know what I have to give in return anymore."

It was excruciating not to interrupt, but she let him talk, to get everything off his chest. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't had many of the same thoughts, but she had also rationalized that the particulars of life didn't matter. Sure, they had spent hours dreaming about how their life would be, the happy little snapshots they envisioned for the future, but none of those were set in stone. Their plans had changed countless times since that night in the cafeteria, when he had stumbled over his feelings and promised how life would be when she was free of the bad-men. But through every twist, every setback, the one thing that had remained the same was how they felt about each other. Where life took them didn't matter, the constant in their plans was the two of them, together.

"What if it was me?" she asked, hoping she could break through to him. "Would you feel your life was wasted if you had to help me in and out of a chair a few times every day? If plans got changed, or canceled all together, because I wasn't feeling well enough to go out?"

"El, of course not," he said defensively, not seeing how it was at all the same. "I would do it in a heartbeat. Without question."

"So how is it any different if I do it for you?"

"Because you're too good, and deserve so much more than to be weighed down with me." he said, defeated. "You spent too much of your life cruelly locked away, and I would just be more of the same. You need to get out of this town, while you still can. You need to leave me behind and take on the world."

"Mike, I know things might look bleak and impossible sometimes, but it wont always be that way."

"El...I just," he started, still not willing to face the truth, even with himself. "I think you need to go. I'm tired, and I can't face having you watch me struggle my way into bed again."

Mike turned and started to roll himself around, feeling the desperate need to be in motion, when his wheels jammed. Looking down, he tried to figure out what he was hung up on this time and found nothing.

"El, please let go of my chair." Mike said, his head hung in frustration.

"Not until you talk to me." she said, still seated at the end of his bed and fighting to keep her voice calm and soothing.

Unable to face her, Mike pushed harder, trying to break her grasp.

"Jane, please, just let me go," he asked, fighting back the tears trying to break free.

"Not until you talk to me, Mike," she said, still soft, but firm.

"Eleven!" he shouted, desperately pouring anger over the hurt. "Will you let go of my damn chair."

He felt himself suddenly lift off the floor, the wheels now spinning freely in his hands. She raised him up and slowly spun the chair to face her, holding him there until he would finally look her in the eyes.

"Not until you stop acting like an asshole and talk to me. Tell me what's this is really about."

He looked hard at her, studying the expressions on her face. Concern? Anger? Frustration? Disappointment - that one hurt the worst. The fight fell out of him, and he broke down in choking sobs. El lowered him carefully back to the ground and gathered him in her warm embrace, his face buried in her shoulder.

"El, I don't know if I can face this. Things should be getting better, but every day somehow feels harder than the last. I feel like I'm breaking into hundreds of pieces, and I can't hold them together anymore, no matter how hard I try. And if I'm going to fall apart, I can't bear the thought of dragging you down with me. I'm not strong enough to deal with all this; I'm not brave like you."

"What do you mean, not brave enough?" she asked, not getting it.

"You faced down the demogorgon, and the mind-flayer - twice - and the bad-men from the lab. Stepping out into the world, years later than you should have and finding your place in it. You're strong and fierce and amazing, and you and have the whole world ahead of you, a world you've fought hard for. Most days it takes me hours just to build up the courage to crawl out of bed and into this damn chair."

"Yes, I faced those things," she agreed, wiping a thumb gently across his cheek. "But I knew I had my powers to help me fight. And when they were gone, I was terrified to go on, too. But you promised me it would get better, and it did."

"But you," she went on. "Do you really not see how brave and amazing you are?"

Mike gave a non-committal shrug, trying to think of a single time he had faced a challenge without being terrified of the outcome.

"You faced off against a desperate man with a gun, armed with nothing but a cold bottle of Pepsi, because you knew you couldn't stand by and let someone get hurt. You faced Billy, a possessed maniac determined to hand me over to a creature of pure evil. The night I came out of hiding, you were ready to face a pack of demo-dogs with a brass candlestick. You climbed into the tunnels to lure away the dogs, clearing my way to the gate."

"You faced down Troy with a stick, that day at the quarry. You stepped off the cliff to save Dustin. You didn't know I would be around to catch you, but you did it anyway. You faced Troy in the gym, not knowing I would stop him, but you did it anyway to defend Will."

"You threw a punch at my dad, when you found out he'd been hiding me for a year. How brave was that?" she asked with a laugh. Despite himself, Mike couldn't help but crack a smile at that memory.

Getting more serious again, she went on. "A year before that, you ignored his orders and went out in a thunderstorm to try and find Will. Instead, you found a scared girl in the rain and brought her home, ignoring your friends' warnings about how dangerous she probably was. You hid her from your parents and the armed agents trying to get her back. When she couldn't fight any longer, you stared down soldiers with guns drawn and declared they would have to kill you before you'd let them take her." She paused, gathering Mike's hands in her own, giving them a gentle squeeze. "And when she was gone, you left your heart ripped open for a year, refusing to let the wound heal, never doubting that she would come back to you. You called her every night for 353 days, not caring if anyone heard or what they might think, because you believed."

"Bravery is not knowing how the situation will turn out, but facing it head on, all the same. You were brave enough - strong enough - to face all that, Michael Wheeler. You are brave enough to face this. If our plans change, if it takes an extra year, or five, or if we never leave this basement at all, that doesn't matter. You, and me, facing it together, that's all that matters. You are just going to have to trust me when I say, it is all going to be okay."

"I just can't bear the thought of holding you back and ruining the life you worked so hard for," Mike said, the fight gone from his voice, sweet concern for El returning.

"I already told you," she smiled, "that first night in the hospital. I can't do any of this without you by my side. The only way you can ruin my life, is if you're not in it."


	7. Chapter 7

Mike separated his life into groups of good days, and bad days. He fought hard for the good, and the bad often left him doubting whether any kind of future was possible. There were times the darkness would start to creep back into his thoughts, threatening to drag him under, but he was getting better about putting his worries into words and talking through them. El learned to spot the warning signs, when he was starting to feel it was all too much, and knew how to pull him back from the edge. She cared for him with boundless patience, but never hesitated to let him know when he was being an asshole and pulling away. It wasn't easy, but he eventually found himself having more good days than bad.

El had spent years learning how to trust, and nowhere was it stronger than her trust in Mike. Now it was his turn to trust her just as strongly. She had every possibility to walk away - he had practically ordered her to - but there was never a doubt in her mind where her heart lay. Mike got it, though there were days the darkness tried to make him doubt, but he trusted El when she said he was stuck with her.

Spring came, and school began to wrap up for El and the rest of the party. While he still wished he was a part of it all, their excitement was infectious and managed to draw Mike out of the gloom. Not wanting her to miss out on any important high school traditions, Mike accompanied El to prom - rented tux and all - and they still managed to have the special night they deserved. It didn't matter to her one bit that they weren't able to actually join the others on the dance-floor. She was content just being there with Mike, arm in arm, shoulder to shoulder, gently swaying to the music in their seats as they watched their friends.

At graduation, from his seat in the crowd with the rest of their families, Mike clapped and cheered louder than anyone as El's name was called to come receive her diploma. A simple piece of paper could never convey the importance of the moment - something that had felt impossible to her only a few years before - but looking out into the crowd and spotting Mike's adoring face made it a moment that would hold a permanent place in her heart. Over dinner at Hopper's that night, he surprised her with a necklace to mark the occasion; a small, gold shooting star. It was a simple piece, but El recognized the meaning behind it. They had spent countless evenings watching the sky, wishing on each and every falling star for a moment that might someday be theirs. Some had come true, some had materialized in unusual ways, but still they held on to their wishes. Things may have changed, but Mike still believed their wishes might have some life in them. With a glint in her eye, El gave Mike a surprise of her own; the drivers license she had practiced for in secret and passed the test to get earlier that week. While she had always planned on getting one eventually, it had been a "someday" thing while Mike happily drove them around. Now that things had changed, she saw no reason they had to be stuck in one place.

That summer, on the anniversary of the incident, El drove them out to make a visit to the Fair Mart. While neither had been actively avoiding returning to the place where everything had changed for them, it was still the first time either of them had been back since that day. Mrs. Johnson met Mike with a beaming smile, caught up on how both of them were doing and expressed her gratitude once again. Before they left, she pressed a cold bottle of Pepsi and a bag of M&Ms into Mike's hands and refused to accept any payment for them. As far as she was concerned, he had more than earned them.

El started her job in late July and Mike continued with his therapy, getting stronger every day. In the evenings, they were their old, inseparable selves. It wasn't uncommon for El to stay the night over at the Wheeler's, and on occasion, Mike found himself a welcome guest overnight at the Hopper house. The Chief found himself growing to accept the closeness he had once found so infuriating, seeing the connection that had before been hidden beneath youthful arrogance. He could see their love for one another, the way El seemed to sense Mike's needs - assisting but never babying - and the way Mike listened with attention bordering on fascination as she talked about even the most mundane details of her day. In truth, Hopper found himself almost jealous at times, their bond stronger than anything he had ever experienced.

Fall came, and school started again for Mike, things quickly falling back into rhythm and life picking up where it had left off. The fixed schedule gave his days a solid structure and kept his mind looking forward. Stationed at his new desk in the basement, working on homework, he often forgot about what chair he was sitting in and found peace in the fact that it didn't define every moment of his life. It was weird being the only member of the party left behind, but he adjusted after a few weeks. He wasn't sure what life would be like at school, being the kid in the wheelchair, but it turned out he had gained something of a reputation in his absence, being the guy who got shot stopping a robbery. There was an odd level of respect, from students and staff alike, that made things just a little easier.

Just as El had promised, they sent off their college applications together, as soon as it was clear Mike would be graduating in June. Their responses came back a day apart, both accepted. In June, it was El's turn to cheer as Mike crossed the stage to collect his hard-earned diploma. She had told him he would make it, and he had to admit, she was right. Maybe a few of their other plans might have a fighting chance as well.

Hopper wasn't exactly pleased by news when Mike and El sat him down and informed him they wanted to get married before going off to college in the fall; he also wasn't the least bit surprised. As El so eloquently put it, they had basically been married for years now, there just hadn't been any paperwork to prove it. Ever the practical planner, El pointed out that freshmen were normally required to live on campus, in gender-separated dorms. That meant Mike would be on his own, or with a roommate. While she knew he could manage just fine, it would be more practical if they could get an apartment together, but that would require being married. He agreed, though he saw right past her talk of practicality; they were adults now, and in love, and wholly committed to one another. As much as he didn't want to see his little girl grow up and move on to that next phase of her life, he knew she was ready; they both were.

The July wedding was a simple affair, a small gathering of friends and family in the Wheeler's backyard. The Party returned from points all over the country for the occasion, confirming their commitment to always be there for each other, no mater the distance. The ceremony was officiated by a local justice of the peace, the same one who had put Mike's attacker behind bars. He was thrilled to take part in their special day, happy to see their lives continuing positively from the tragic event. They spoke their vows, exchanged rings and committed themselves to one another, but the connection as they gazed at one another through the ceremony spoke more than words ever could.

A honeymoon would wait for sometime in the future, when they could afford the trip they wanted. As for their wedding night, that was something El insisted on planning every detail of, calming Mike with a gentle kiss and a whispered "trust me." Behind the wheel of Mike's old Ford, El drove them a little way outside of town before turning up an old dirt road, the route carefully researched and rehearsed. She pulled to a stop at the top of a small hill, the surrounding countryside stretching out in every direction. A bottle of wine they were technically still too young for, and two more slices of wedding cake close at hand, they stretched out together on an old wool blanket and watched the sun go down. They talked about life and love, everything and nothing, as the stars winked to life in the darkening sky above. They planned for what the future might hold, knowing full well most ideas would change is some fashion, but there was bliss in imagining all the same. They wished on every shooting star that crossed the sky that night, some shared aloud and some kept in their hearts. The night was quiet, it was intimate. They talked, they kissed, they held each other close, and before either of them knew it, they were watching the sun come up on the opposite horizon. It was no ground-floor suite, no spirited game of chess, and Mike took El's hands in his own and promised he would never doubt her when she told him that everything would be alright.

College was hard, but no more so than everything they had faced together. In so many ways, the struggles of classes and assignments were almost laughable, so perfectly normal compared to the things that had come before. They took turns pulling each other back from the brink of giving up, late nights studying hard marked by frustrated tears and encouraging words. Life was simple and routine, and before they knew it, they were crossing another stage, collecting their diplomas amid the cheering of friends and family. They made their way out into the world, hand in hand, taking on new roles and looking to the future, but one they shared.

Jane Wheeler, El to her closest friends. A commercial architect quickly rising to prominence in a respected Chicago firm. Michael Wheeler, Mr. Wheeler to his students. Math teacher, founder of the Eastpoint High AV club, Knowledge Bowl advisor. Always on the lookout for the students that didn't quite fit in, and making sure they found each other. A home in the suburbs, one story with wide halls and a big backyard. Paul and Erin Wheeler, twins, adopted. As El pointed out, just because they weren't able to conceive children that were biologically theirs, didn't mean they didn't still have a wealth of love to give and every chance at the family they had always planned.

Stars fell from the sky, wishes were made, plans were laid down, and most came to nothing. And that was okay. Mike once grouped is days into piles of good and bad, but somewhere along the line, he stopped keeping track. The good so vastly outweighed the bad, there was no point in even dwelling on it.

* * *

The sun was sinking low in the sky as Mike tossed the ball one more time to Erin, not so much practicing anymore, but just keeping her arm loose. Softball tryouts started early the next morning and her nerves were getting the better of her, so they came out to the backyard to run through a few drills. Coming over and plopping in the grass beside her father's chair, she let out a heavy sigh.

"Nervous?" Mike asked, reaching over and giving her hair a ruffle.

"A little," she smiled, ducking playfully away from his hand. "I mean, what if I'm not good enough. Freshmen almost never make the team."

"Well," Mike began, glancing across the yard and catching El's eye as she worked in the garden, "someone pretty smart once taught me that the bravest thing you can do, is face the challenge head on, even if you're not sure how it will turn out. Because you will always be stronger, and braver, than you think you are."


End file.
